Friday, December 19, 2014

So, anecdotally, flipping someone off does not end a
conversation as much as it exacerbates it. Most likely you will be considered
the hostile agitator, especially if you are a writer not taking an “innocent”
comment well.

When it comes to maintaining a confident demeanor, writers
can often be put between a hard place and a rock. We all know what it is like
to have someone question whether or not we really think we have what it takes,
to suggest what we should really be writing, and to dig a fingernail right into
our insecurity. But while the author is constantly questioned on every decision
he makes, there also seems to be little in the way of his options without
sounding like a colossal dick. Every explanation just offers more room for
argument, trying to convey what’s important to you will often gets the return
of, “That doesn’t matter.” When trying to answer something a tone of derision,
writers will often feel themselves in a sticky spot.

What to do?

1) Evaluate the
intention.

The appropriate response is very much determined by the
speaker’s intention. In some cases, an offensive question is really just them
trying to carry a conversation. And if the author just happens to be introverted, the speaker very well may be doing
most of the hard work.

For small talk, people will take the little they know about
you and try to form a question. It will probably not be that interesting, and
if they don’t know that much about the topic, it’s likely to be the
three-hundredth time you’ve heard it.

“Oh, I always wanted to write a book,” gets right under our
skin. Like it was so easy. But if you sense that they’re speaking to fill the
silence, sometimes it’s good to give them a break.

I can attest that when someone asks you, “So, what have you
written?” it might be a competitive jibe. It also just might be a way for them
to find out more about you.

While you only have a few seconds to decide, taking just a
moment to give them the benefit of the doubt is often all you need to realize
that they aren’t trying to be a condescending hole. If that’s the case, then
you can answer their question confidently and thoroughly, which will allow them
to come up with more detailed questions (versus continuing to question you.)

If you can’t tell why they’re asking, err on assuming the
better of them. Even if they are egging you on, after you play stupid and act
friendly, they either have to up the ante and be even more aggressive (making
it more agreeable to outside viewers when you do eventually end up flipping
them off) or, more likely, they’ll play along and act as though they weren’t
being a jerk in the first place. (And then think you’re an unperceptive moron,
but by this point, you were never going to get their blessing, so big deal.)

2) Don’t engage.

In a conversation, you don’t have to put any more effort
into making them comfortable than they did you. Writers are often insecure
about being a writer—“What gives me the right?”—and sometimes that makes us
feel obligated to explain ourselves.

You don’t.

Explaining a decision validates a criticism. In certain
situations, that’s fine. If it truly is constructive and an ensuing conversation
can help the author understand the pros and cons of a choice, then having each
person explain their view can be extremely helpful, even if they aren’t completely
right. If, however, the criticism is more about someone else putting the writer
down, the writer does not need to explain himself.

I work in highly competitive fields which, strangely enough,
being competitive is ineffective and sometimes even counterproductive. While
millions of people are trying to be writers, it is unlikely that the success of
the person you’re speaking to will actually affect you. And yet, still we try
to prove ourselves by belittling each other’s accomplishments.

Whenever you get the sense that someone is trying to prove
that your choices are bad, or your experience doesn’t count (probably to build
themselves up), the best solution is to answer them in the most succinct and
literal manner possible, “literal” meaning exactly what they asked, not what
they meant.

“Well, clearly this is a first draft.”

“Nope.”

“Well, you haven’t finished it yet.”

“I have.”

“It’s your first book.”

“No.”

Or…

“Why do you write science fiction?”

“I like it.”

Or…

“You sure you want to be an author. There’s no money in it
you know.”

“I do know.”

And then stare at them, without saying a word, until they go away. No matter how long it takes.

When I’ve been in these situations (and I’ve been in them a
lot) my succinct answers made my fellow conversationalist more and more
flustered as we went on. By not feeling inclined to explain or prove myself or
insult them, the power returned to me. They are under the obligation to keep
adding details and to prove themselves right, not being fed any more
information that they could argue or prove their point with. I don’t do anything
that allows them to take offense and I don't allow them to get to me.

Of course, I was able to do this because I did have
experience and could honestly give the “right” answer, but even if it had been
my first novel, the answer, “Yep. It is,” would have still put the burden on
her to keep carrying the conversation, and brevity lets her know just how I
feel about the question.

Looking confident while someone is questioning your every
action is difficult. Trying to prove yourself will often look like insecurity
and give more fodder for criticism. By giving them little information and
acting as though you don’t need to explain your actions often makes them seem
reasonable and the person questioning them as the one who is being abnormal.

While the benefits of not engaging allow you to show you don’t
find the question itself acceptable or necessary, maybe you don’t want to come
off as annoyed. What then?

3) Make it a
thoughtful conversation rather than an attack.

Whether or not a person is actually attacking you (or is
aware that’s what they’re doing), if you feel attacked, there’s a reason. Maybe
it’s you being too sensitive or maybe they really are just trying to bring you
down. Sometimes it’s hard to say. But no matter the circumstance, many people
want to bring the conversation to a positive light.

If they ask you to explain why you want to be an author, why
you write in the genre you do, why your character did that “obviously
ridiculous thing,” or just implied any of the above, sometimes the best way to
handle the situation is to act as though the perceived slight does not exist and
change topics.

“Why don’t you write contemporary fiction?” (Actual common
question.)

A)Instead of answering, ask a question that makes
it about them: “Is that what you read?”

B)Make it a bigger picture philosophy: “I always find diversity in literature as
important, so while I recognize contemporary fiction doesn’t alienate people as
much as science fiction, it’s a niche that I enjoy and have no interest in disappearing.”

C)Give an interesting anecdote: “A couple of years
ago I was working on a play where I had a concept I loved, but no clear setting.
I naturally made it about modern day America, and found I couldn’t get past
page three. About a year later, I picked up the project again and picked out a
more specific setting—one that I knew I would enjoy—and I wrote the whole thing
in a couple of days. Turns out, contemporary fiction doesn’t interest me.”

So when someone asks why you want to be an author, tell them
the story about when you first knew. When they inform you that it won’t make
any money, ask them if that was a main factor in choosing their career. You can
be as patronizing or as pleasant as you want. The important thing is to not
give them room to suggest you are uncertain about that choice (even if you are).

4) Act like you
really care about their opinion. (And try to really care.)

The best way to turn off hostility is to make that person
feel respected. In the opposite vein of the above tactics, you may consider
saying you aren’t sure about your choice and ask them their opinion, giving
them the responsibility of making a “good” decision.

One of two things will happen: They’ll shut down, or they
will go off, chattering endlessly. Either way, you’ve taken the responsibility
to prove yourself off of your shoulders and put it back on theirs.

Some people have a lot to say when unsolicited, but then,
the moment you ask them for their view, they refuse to give it. They’re good
critics, but bad leaders. When criticizing, the responsibility is still on the
creator, but when the limelight actually falls on the speaker, he can feel a
lot of pressure to be right. That’s why everyone’s a critic and an aspiring author, rather than actually
doing it. It’s easier to tell you why a choice is wrong than to make the right
one.

The reason to use this method is because you actually aren’t
sure about your decision, and you do want someone else’s insight. So if option
number two occurs, then you’re getting exactly what you want. The trick is to
just listen to them talk without putting your own two-cents in (which may
encourage the hostility and competition to be revived.) Against my normal
philosophy, it’s about making them do most of the talking, taking the
information in, and then parsing it out later.

So, when they say, “He tells her he loves her and she just
says nothing?” with that tone of derision
we all love, just respond with, “What would you like to happen?” and they’ll
either trail off about, “I don’t know, it’s your book…” or give you an in-depth
analysis of their mind. Either way, win.

5) Passive-aggressively
let them know why you hate that question.

I save this one for last because, while it is the most fun,
it will make either make the speaker feel bad or get
angry, so it should be your intent to do so. It should be saved for those who
constantly barrage you with unsolicited criticism, and you merely want them to
understand why it needs to stop without them defending themselves.

It goes like this:

“You should write romance novels. That’s where the real money
is.”

“Ugh. People suggest that all the time. Don’t they realize
they are insulting your personal tastes every time they ask you to write
something you don’t write? I mean how closed minded can they be?”

Guaranteed they will never suggest that again. Also, that
they may never talk to you again.

The real trick to confronting people’s derision is to assume
you can’t change their mind. The less you try to do so, the more likely you
will. Or at least, the less they’ll be willing to talk to you about it.

Monday, December 15, 2014

The prize of the beautiful Edgar Allan Poe quilt goes
to a woman by the name of Jessica. She has already been notified.

Wait. Come back.

I will be doing another giveaway of a similar prize next
June or when I hit 5,000 likes on Facebook, whichever comes first. So if you’re
interested in being kept updated, please bookmark this blog, follow it, like me
on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter. And I do take suggestions from loyal
fans.

The second part of news, I’m happy to launch the first of
many short stories, Stories of the Wyrd:

These episodic short
stories follow siblings, Rasmus and Kaia Kondori, as they weave a thin line
between their world and a supernatural void that borders it. Fighting
hobgoblins, ghosts, vampires, and the things creeping in from the wilderness,
their adventures range from dark horror to fairytale slapstick.

Sarcastic, dark, supernatural, and romantic, the stories
have a wide variety in length and styles, perfect for a quick jaunt or a long, leisurely
read.

These short stories have been a pet project of mine for the
past year and a half. Many of the shorts, not yet featured on the website,
convey a widespread spectrum of emotions and moods. They have allowed me to
experiment and toy with styles and techniques, removing the stressors of the
publishing world my novels always tend to have.

Kaia and Rasmus came from a novel which really wanted to be
a television show, diving into only a small part of their lives.

I’ve been procrastinating to make them live, but decided, in
the name of my 25th year of life, to stop the isolation.

They are meant to be fun, casual reads that always have the
option of growing into more if the reader so chooses. I will be adding more
stories as we go along, probably around every other week. But I don’t need more
deadlines, and these works are supposed to be nothing but enjoyable, so it will
be sporadic. Again, following me is the best way to be notified of updates.

Friday, December 12, 2014

It’s a sentiment that I use sarcastically, but at certain
times in my life, I mean it. Then I make a point to be more dramatic.

People often ask me why I speak so specifically, and laugh
when I discuss things like I’m a persuasive essay, having a list of “concrete
details,” i.e. examples, to prove my point. (A little ironic considering how
much I braced against the formulaic methods of essay writing.) It’s not
uncommon for me to reply to a question with, “The answer’s not fully formed
yet,” or, “It’s all speculation. I let you know when I can prove something,”
even for things like, “How’d you like the movie?”

I’m used to being misunderstood and have spent my life
trying to phrase things in a way that will make my internal thoughts clear to
an outsider. In my mind, I’m never wrong, I just didn’t express it correctly.
And, that’s my philosophy on other people’s opinions too.

That all being said, I’ve become fairly successful at
figuring out how to be convincing. It’s easier to gauge success when everyone
outright insists you’re wrong. Whatever it is about my nature—I’m assuming the
condescension that I don’t actually mean—people want me to be mistaken. I once
tried to tell my boyfriend that a square was a rectangle even though a
rectangle isn’t always a square, and he flat out called me a liar. Because of
reactions like this, I’ve learned how to express my feelings in a way that
will, eventually, draw other people around to my same conclusion.

This is mostly in terms of life and philosophy over writing.
In fact, though I constantly am thinking about improved methods of conveying
constructive criticism in a palatable and efficient way, I hadn’t really put
two and two together and considered one of the reasons giving feedback on
writing is so difficult. Then suddenly it occurred to me how I came to
understand my writing and its main weaknesses, and the difficulty for us to
help others to do the same.

Getting people to an organic understanding of your perception
takes time, and constructive criticism is expedited.

I recently got asked by a Twitter follower to read his
manuscript. I agreed, he immediately sent it, and then not ten minutes later
had asked how far I had gotten. He admitted to being impatient and I didn’t
blame him. Truth was, even if I had sat down and immediately started reading, I
wasn’t about to give him feedback until I had read the whole thing (about 200
pages.) I believe in going big picture and backwards, so I needed the big
picture first. When receiving feedback, the demand is for it to be as quick and thorough as possible. I blame the microwave.

The best way to “improve” somebody (whether
that be behavior or writing-wise) is to take time. There are several
steps involved. Convincing your loved one he/she demoralizes you or that his
characters always sound like they’re lying can’t happen with just one blurt of
blunt criticism. You can’t say, “I need you to stop being so damn
condescending!” and expect it to take affect.

First step is to introduce the concept without a call to action or insistence they are wrong. Second step is to give time for the criticized to digest what is said. Third step is to reinforced the concept, adding information each time. Forth step is to wait for acceptance of the idea. Fifth step is to explain your perspective as fully as possible when they're ready to listen. Sixth step is to allow them to experiment in solutions without being critical.

The best way to initiate a change in someone is first by
allowing immediate rejection.

To convince someone of anything, the idea must be introduced
first. If you do this in a manner that makes the individual feel control, he’s
more likely to move through the first stage of being convinced faster.

Constructive criticism does get easier with time. The main
reason is because it stops being surprising.

Shock is the first stage of a first criticism. Denial is the
second. They tend to go hand in hand. Shock is what makes it hurt, denial is
what makes it more palatable. When the introducer of the concept does it in a
way that retains power for the listener, the listener is less likely to feel
out of control. When someone feels in control, they feel safer and are more likely
to not need the denial stage as long.

How do you introduce a piece of constructive criticism
without implying an immediate call to action? That’s just the problem. The
expectation is to give a call of action. The writer wants to leave this
feedback session with an immediate solution to his problem.

Considering the most beneficial sessions I’ve had, I would
say that beginning authors should focus on having conversations with others
about their writing, not feedback sessions. Having someone to just talk about
their book, or even sit there and just listen, is the best way to ease into
what he wants to change about his work. Instead of giving solutions and trying
to make it easy to digest in one succinct moment, the critic is enabled to just
talk, without an agenda, about the story as a whole. The author is able to
respond, and no one is looking for a means to “improve” the work. This allows
the writer to feel in control. When he is told “When Susie didn’t save the cat,
I hated her,” he is still shocked,
but he gets to decide if that’s a good or bad thing, he’s not being told by
someone that he made a mistake and needs to change it. He’s more likely to be
honest with himself and not be spiteful.

Trying to get all the criticism you need in one session is
pointless. You need some time to take it it, you need some time to be hurt, you
need some time to dissect, and you need time to figure out what you don’t
understand.

I never expect anyone to believe me the first time I tell
them anything. Most people’s reaction to new concepts is rejection. There’s a legitimate
question of why haven’t I heard of this before? Or, in the case of writing, why
haven’t I seen it?

It’s an important step in constructive criticism. If you are
given feedback, you don’t need to identify the truth of it right then and
there. You can give it time to make sense to you, or for it to come up again
and receive more information.

Whenever you want someone to make any sort of change, give
it to them gently, even vaguely, and don’t expect immediate change. For one
thing, when anyone tries to force change as someone expressed it to them, it’s likely
it will be mechanical, false, and often not really what the person meant.

We need time to get over the shock and accept the possibility
of the idea without feeling trapped by the need to make an immediate decision.

Most individual pieces of criticism are useless on their
own. It’s only after figuring out how they connect (which often requires more
than one perspective, either gained by time or new people) that the truth of
each comes out.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

To celebrate the launch of my serial short stories, on
December 15, I will be announcing the winner of this beautiful Edgar Allan Poe
quilt.

This wall hanging is 45”x45” and handmade. Made from 100% cotton, it is the perfect art piece to brighten up a wall or place across a plain
bedspread.

To enter, follow the proceeding instructions. If you win, you will need to send me your mailing address for the quilt to be shipped to. If I don’t hear from the winner within 10 days, I will pull a new name.

Please like my Facebook page when you are there.

(For the blog follow button, after following, just type anything into the text bar.)

I will be doing another giveaway June 2015, or after I
receive 5,000 likes on my Facebook page, whichever comes first. I will keep
everyone updated through my Facebook and Twitter account, so stay connected!

STORIES OF THE WYRD

On December 15 I will be launching a new website featuring episodic short stories about two so called "vampire hunters" and their attempts to save the world, or just convince anyone with coin it needs it.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

This may be my hubris talking, but I always believed that
the way academia handles writing is flawed, especially at my high school.
Conversation with old comrades turns to the fact that while we were forced to
learn and use the Jane Shaffer method for five years, when we got to college,
each of us couldn’t figure out how to write an essay. We had someone holding
our hand the entire time, making us not actually pay attention the process or
having any idea why we did anything we did. We didn’t even understand what we
were trying to do.

The school’s greatest failings, however, center around
editing and critiques. While I do actually remember many classes that had us
practicing criticizing each other, there wasn’t a lot of feedback on the
critiques themselves. Most times, the author wasn’t even allowed to speak,
which I’ve discussed before why I find that counterproductive to the
process. And as for editing, well, sure we got the red marked pages back, but I
don’t remember ever having to read them or do another draft. The turned in
essay was supposed to be a polished draft already, which makes me convinced my
teachers have never met a high school student before.

Critiquing and editing is not a natural skill, and it’s one
glossed over in most situations. Not everyone knows how to do it even though we
think it should be inherent. There are a lot of fallacies and myths going on
about the editing process (I’m still surprised by how shocked some people are
when I tell them a second draft isn’t always better than the first, like it
never occurred to them that you could screw things up). Editing is just like
writing in a lot of ways, where most people think they can do it, if only they’re
just given the chance.

Along with self-publishing, the freelance editor has gained
popularity. You want to publish your own book, it’s often a good idea to find a
professional to give you feedback. But in the same way that you can’t trust a
self-published work as much as you can a traditionally published one (we’ve all
read that work filled with typos that completely lacks an ending) a freelance
editor might not actually be experienced at all or good at what he does.

It’s hard hiring artists. Their skill level isn’t always
consistent—by the nature of the beast—and even if they’re good at what they do
they may not be what you’re looking for. If they suddenly decide to half ass
it, which some are often inclined to do, then you’re helpless.

It’s difficult to tell how good an editor will be until
after he’s already edited your book.

But it’s not like taking a chance on a self-published work
where, if the author proves lacking, you’re out 99 cents. Ten dollars at max.
An editor can cost anywhere from 300 to 3,000 dollars, and just because you’ve
paid more doesn’t really mean anything. They often have websites with resume
credits on it, but many times their work means little to you (I edited Joe
Smith’s Little Red House), unless you’ve
actually read it. And it’s not uncommon for them to just make things up. I read
articles all the time about freelance editors who just jacked information from
someone else’s page thinking they wouldn’t get caught. Which they usually don’t.

The best way for an editor to reveal his skill set is to
have a blog. Whenever someone writes a lot about writing—his opinion, tips,
what he’s reading, what he likes and doesn’t like—instead of reading their
planted testimonies and a list of credits that are meaningless and might be
made up, you find out a lot about the person and discover if you’re a good
match or not. Knowing that what he likes to read is completely different than
what you like to read tells you his issues will be those of taste rather than
effectiveness. If he spends all his time ranting about prologues and adverb use
and you find that to be the least important aspect of writing well, then you
already know you’re going to be ticked when you get the drafts back. If,
however, you find yourself agreeing with him and you seem to be on the same
page, you might’ve found your literary soul mate and definitely should hire
him.

The problem with these blogs, on the other hand, is it seems
some people forget it’s their potential customers reading them. Same goes for
Facebook statuses and Twitter accounts. While you have many people like me who
aren’t in search for a freelance editor as of yet, I might very well be compelled
to change my mind if the situation fits. If you are actively shopping around
and are doing your research by checking out different avenues of their self-expression,
you can easily be turned off by some of the things they have to say.

Truth is, in the same way a potential boss might be turned
off by having pictures of you stumbling drunk on Facebook, potential customers
are turned off by some of the things the freelances have to say.

If I ever decided to hire an outside editor who I hadn’t met
in person, I can tell you a few things that would confirm someone wasn’t a
right fit:

I would never hire
someone who might mock my work in public.

Many times these editors post complaints about the “shit”
they’re editing. Whether it be a vague tweet, “Books like these make me wish I
was illiterate,” with no real indication on who or what that book is, or a more
in depth, three page analysis on something specific, this sourpuss demeanor
does not read as professional to me. It does not say I’m someone who likes to
read, and it indicates that I can’t trust them. While I can get behind many
negative posts, an editor and author relationship requires respect for each
other in order to be its most effective. Ranting posts suggest that the editor,
in fact, does not agree with this philosophy.

I would never hire
someone who cuts corners.

My blog, for those skimmers out there, is called, “What’s
Worse than Was: A website on how the word ‘was’ isn’t the worst thing a writer
can do.”

In response to this, a freelance editor told me that when editing
a book, he could tell “how good it was,” by using finder to see how many times
the word “was” was used. After a certain number, he knew that it was terrible.

I’m not going to critique the method itself—hey, it might
work. I haven’t tried it—but I will say that, while he didn’t realize that I might
be a future customer, he did make it so that I’m certainly not now.

Editors love to brag about how they cut corners when editing
or simply judging a book. “I just turn straight to page 17, and if there’s not
an inciting incident, then I know it’s not any good.”

See, what I’m hiring you to do is not to tell me how I’m not
fitting into a formula, but rather tell me how the book made you react (or didn’t),
why you probably reacted that way, and to give me a couple of solutions to
solve the problem. Truth is, I know a lot of the writing rules already. I could
make a formulaic book with ease. Anyone could. But no book like that will ever
be considered great, which is why when
to follow the rules and why you
should follow them now, is important.

Announcing to me that you don’t consider context when
editing suggests that you can be replaced by a computer. And if you can be,
believe me, you will be.

I’ve had authors and editors complain about speaking in the
vernacular in Facebook statuses. The
one person I’ve blocked was someone who told me not to end a sentence in a
preposition. I repeat, in a Facebook
status.

When I want feedback from someone, I’m looking for their
opinion. What do they see that I can’t? I hate getting back a manuscript that
just fixates on grammar and typos with no abstract, big picture issues. What’s
worse is when they focus on doing things technically correct, not emotionally
effectively.

While the zoomed in focus on grammar and typos is irritating,
it’s useless when the editor brings in technically correct but long forgotten
rules, especially when he doesn’t understand why those rules existed in the
first place.

What’s the consequence of ending a sentence in a
preposition? Does it jar the reader? Corrupt understanding? Make anyone who’s
not trying to prove their literary superiority cry? No, it’s because it makes
English less like Latin. Yep. Back in the 1700’s a literary critic wanted to
make English grammar conform to the dead language, and his propaganda was
pretty popular and well repeated, but he was never successful in making it
actually incorrect, which is why your computer doesn’t bitch at you when you do
it.

Being technically correct can be far more jarring than being
incorrect. It can also change the tone and cadence of your writing. It
sometimes has no point other than to prove superiority. Mostly though, if that’s
the most important thing someone wants to talk about, it indicates to me a lack
of more interesting thoughts.

I would never hire
someone who doesn’t think for himself.

Personally I interpret an obsession with grammar as
insecurity. Not that I mind when people point out typos, spelling errors, and
the like, nor do I really believe that people who are good at grammar are all self-doubting,
but when that’s all they will talk
there’s a reason.

When someone doesn’t consider the effect of the grammar
rule, he’s limiting my palate. If he doesn’t consider why I have a sentence
fragment here, or used “me” instead of “I” in my dialogue, then why wouldn’t I
just use a computer program? It doesn’t judge me, can’t post complaints about
me in Facebook, and gets the job done quickly.

An editor needs to be more than just some formula pushing
junkie. He needs to be a creative sort who is willing to stand back and
consider someone else’s tastes to maximize the books potential. He cannot be
some closed-minded parrot.

If an editor has a list of blogs complaining about grammar
rules that no one cares about, or if his articles are all things we’ve heard
before without any semblance of original opinion, it is an indication he’s not
a critical thinker.

When looking for an editor, I’m trying to find someone who
can do what I can’t; the opinion of someone who didn’t make the book, a different
level of experience, simply ideas and inspiration that I wouldn’t have come up
with on my own. If the editor acts like a computer where he uses simple
formulas instead of his brain, or if he behaves like an amateur with a light
grasp of concepts I am fully informed of, then he’s not any use to me. Why would
I pay him so much?

If I’m looking for an editor, I’m looking for his mind. If I’m
looking for common writing techniques and tricks, I’m looking for Google.